State of my Union

Monday, February 11, 2013

I have had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

But it’s all relative, I suppose.  Today, I found out that I’ll be losing my job come May.  It’s not because they’re going broke or anything sensible like that; it just seems to be a decision made by the big dogs.  And it sucks.  They said that they will be accepting applications from us to join their team in Houston, TX, so hey, maybe my user name was a bit of a prophecy.

I mentioned before about how I love my small town, and I do.  I really do.  But it just feels like everything is falling apart here, and there aren’t a lot of places to go.  In the past month, three huge employers in the community have either closed or announced that they will be closing soon, ultimately displacing over 300 people here.  I know there are companies in the world that have over 300 people just working logistics or whatever. I get it. We’re small. But 300 people is about 6% of this town’s population, and that’s just one month’s worth of layoffs.  There are people here that have been struggling for much, much longer than that.  It’s killing me; my town is shutting down.

It’s always been a running joke with my family that SoHi (that’s what I call this place since I’m coo’ like that) is a rest stop.  We’re an exit right off of a major highway that runs down the east coast and we pretty much thrive off of when travelers and businessmen need our hotels and a good burger or something.   I don’t know how much longer we can make it like that.  The places that employ the majority of the people who actually live here just seem to be rapidly dying out.

If something big doesn’t happen soon (and I’m not talking about the new Five Guys they’re opening this year, though I love myself some Five Guys), SoHi is going to become a ghost town.

….or a retirement community.

I’m pretty young, haven’t been out of college that long, so I’m still feeling a little resilient. I’m sure I have other opportunities out there for me waiting for me to take advantage.  Problem is: I’m a HUGE punk.  Ain’t no shame in my game. I know this; I admit it.  I don’t like new and I don’t like real challenges. But I’m being forced out. I know that I can’t stay here, but I’m not sure where to go or how to get there.

The adventure begins…

One thing I do know: my family’s 2013 is starting off with a bang, and not a particularly good one.

My girl, Kristin, tweeted this short article she found: http://www.rttnews.com/2054917/stage-stores-to-consolidate-south-hill-office-operations-to-eliminate-180-jobs.aspx

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Forgive me, Father, for I am not Catholic.

Alright, confession time: I have a twitter crush, and his name is @PhilthePill.

I don’t know much about him; in fact, I don’t know much outside of his name being Phil, and that he seems to care a hell of a lot more about politics than I do. Though political activists aren’t really my jam, the thing that gets me is that just about anything he tweets cracks me up.

My motto that I’ve tried to live by was taught to me by my favorite movie, The Lion King. “Hakuna Matata.”  I love laughter and I always tell people, “If you can make me laugh, you win.” It’s like the key to my heart.

But it’s not just that: dude is passionate.  If he’s not telling someone to fuck off, then he’s ranting about how certain legislature is stupid, or intensely critiquing some movie.  He’s like the totally opposite of me.

So yeah, I know, it’s weird. Judge all you like (I would). Never met the guy, don’t know what he looks like or anything.  But if it’s possible to have one…. I. Have. A. Twitter. Crush.

Hey, hey, hey: but the other #52ers are hot, too.  I just want them all.  I believe at some point, I was called a “sexy vulture?”

FiftyTwo Shades of Kay

Alright, alright.  In case it wasn’t plain to see, I’m the slacker of this #52weeks team. I don’t necessarily hold my title proudly, but the first step is admitting it, right?

I’ve been struggling with what to write. I’m feeling such pressure to have an entertaining blog.  But here’s the thing: I question how well I can entertain the masses.  Let’s see if I can keep your interest with telling y’all about myself.

I love McKenzie’s blog where she talks about her name.  I didn’t come to love my full name until I was a teenager.

When I was a kid, I hated it. It quickly became natural to state my name and immediately follow it with an intense spelling session or some sort of explanation. Everytime I introduced myself, people looked at me as if I was the strangest thing to walk the earth.   It’s a relatively normal name, isn’t it?

“Name, please?”

“Kristian Yelverton”

“Okay, Kristin, if you would…”

“No, no. Kristian.”

-silence-

“Hm, I’ve never met a girl named Christian.”

“…yeah, I hear that a lot. But I spell it with a K so….it’s a little bit better.”

“Oh, that’s pretty. What did you say your last name was?”

“Yelverton.”

“Overton?”

“No….Yelverton.”

“…………………Spell that, please.”

“ Yel-ver–”

“Wait, wait, hold on, slow down. Y-e-l-b-e-r”

“V!”

“B?”

“V. as in Victor.  Y-e-l-V-e-r-t-o-n.”

“Okay, Miss Yellerton, right this way.”

To top all of that off, my middle name is some ridiculous, ghetto, made-up contraction. So, yes, I hated my name. I wish I could remember what happened that made me love it eventually, but I can’t.  All I know is that I’m wonderfully in love with my name now, so much so that I have mild panic attacks about having to change it if/when I get married.

I’m 21, the magical age where being an alcoholic is socially acceptable…sometimes. I try to take advantage as much as possible before people start questioning if I should go to rehab. College started it: drunken college freshman.  I wasn’t one of those tight dress wearing sorority girls, but I was just as messy as them.  I just rocked a hoodie while I participated in my hot mess shenanigans. Not much difference. I’ve chilled out, thankfully. I guess that comes with growing up a bit. So, maybe I’m slightly more tolerable (unless football is on).

Drinking’s in the genes; that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

I’m small town. I didn’t realize that about myself until I left for college, but I am. I love the pace. I love the comforting feelings that come with the territory. I love that my job AND Wal-mart are only about 5 mins away from my house.  What’s not to love about small town living?

Phil mentioned he’s out changing the world in bustling DC, Jessy’s talking about the Golden Gate bridge… I gotta tell ya, I think the last time I’ve even saw a picture of that thing was when an episode of Full House rolled credits.  I live a very simple, plain, country life, and for now, that’s a-okay with me.

Lastly, I’m curvy.  BOY, AM I CURVY! Voluptuous. Big girl. Full-figured. Call it whatever you want, but it’s me. Look, I used to be tall, lanky, and couldn’t pass 90lbs on the scale to save my life.  All I desired was to be big. I was the baby of the family, and I wanted to grow up fast. Not to mention, putting on a couple of pounds wouldn’t hurt my chances of finally winning a wrestling match with my big brother.  I was always in competition with him, and our favorite contest was “who could eat the most?”  He always won, but I was a close second, and determined to win eventually.

Problem came when my brother stopped competing and didn’t tell me. Well, I finally broke 90 pounds….and never stopped. I’m almost at 200 now, and I thought I would be one of those girls that complained about how fat she was all the time, but I don’t.  (not that often). Oh, I have body image issues, no doubt.  99 problems, but my size ain’t one.

I don’t know what else to tell you.

Quickies: I’m a rambler (shown above), and I’ve never been a closer (shown here)………………….

I do know that you should check out the other #52ers: Dan, Emily, Satnam, AND McKenzie, Jessy, and Phil too (their links are above)!